Welcome to the Grave
by Little Mae
Summary: Mrs.Lovett survives the night,and Benjamin Barker never finds his Lucy. Johanna and Anthony pay a visit to the listless Sweeney Todd. What disturbing facet of human nature is brought to light next?
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the Grave**

Imagine Sweeney Todd never found Lucy again. Therefore, other events of the night were subtly changed. Think of it what you will, but tell me what you're thinking!

* * *

"Get some color in your cheeks, Mr. T, that's wot you need. Just let Mrs. Lovett take care of you, dear…" 

"Anything you say…"

She examined him with a critical eye, noticing the listlessness and the brooding silence that constantly surrounded him. She resisted the urge to care for him and buried her hand in her hair, bustling about the dank room. The place seemed almost uninhabited without little Toby shadowing her every move. Poor little boy...deserved a better life than the little that he had.

"Your daughter's coming later, you know."

The barber raised his head. "Johanna? Johanna's coming?"

"Oh, that you pay attention to."

He stood in the shadows, pale skin glowing against the darkness. He stared at her with fathomless eyes that sunk into the gloom. "I pay attention to you."

"Of course you do. And maybe tomorrow we'll sell this hell-hole and go to the sea like you promised." She sighed and looked up to the ceiling, smoothing the apron of her dirty gown.

"Come here, Mrs. Lovett." He held out his hand.

Nellie stepped towards him – she always did. He never could see it. "Yes, Mr. T?"

He wrapped an iron arm around her waist and held her neck lightly with the other. She rolled her head ever so slightly towards his porcelain cheek. She knew he wouldn't notice. She reveled in this facsimile of an embrace, the only kind he would ever give her.

"How do you know Johanna is coming?" His rough, gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine.

"That one sailor lad – whatshisname – well, he said he'd bring her before they left. To thank you, or some rot like that."

"Hmm." She was still locked in a death grip. She recalled the gentleness that he had always used with Lucy, as if she was some precious jewel. Well, now it was another woman in his arms, and thank goodness for that. A door was opened downstairs. She shifted under his hands.

"Mr. Todd? I 'ave to get that…"

"Of course, of course." He let her go and continued pacing at the window like a caged animal. She watched him sadly before opening the door and slipping downstairs.

The steps creaked and so did the door as a boy came rushing at her with a little street urchin behind him.

"Mrs. Lovett, isn't it? This is Johanna." And he brought the urchin forward. Nellie gasped as she recognized the pale skin and yellow curls hidden underneath a hat. The features of the girl's face delicate and fairy-like, just like her silly mother.

She did not know how to react. "You're early," she said severely.

The lad looked worried. "I'm really very sorry, but the ship leaves in an hour…and I wanted to say thank you and good-bye to Mr. Todd. Is he upstairs?"

She nodded silently and blew an errant hair out of her face. If she could only wash it properly maybe he would look at her more often…Mrs. Lovett followed behind the pair, lifting her skirts off the dirty floor. She stepped in front of them at the door and rapped briskly at the glass. She heard footsteps on the old floorboards, and the door slowly opened. She motioned at the young people to wait outside for a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped in.

"Well? Who was that?" He surprised her, and she had to push on his chest to get him to move back.

"They're here, right now. You know, the sailor boy. Should I call them in?"

Sweeney nodded distractedly, his dark eyes fixed on the doorway.

"It's all righ', you two," she shouted behind her. They came in cautiously, like frightened children. The moment he saw his daughter, he breathed in sharply and moved towards her, stretching a hand out as if to touch her face.

"Johanna…" he whispered.

The girl shrunk back, casting a fearful look at Anthony. Sweeney Todd stopped like a knife had been thrust into his heart. His features hardened, and Nellie put a hand on his arm. He ignored her and took another step forward, interrupting the beginning of Anthony's speech.

"Take off your hat," he ordered.

Johanna stuttered and blushed. "Sir?"

In two more paces he reached her and lifted the boy's hat off himself, watching the golden curls tumble down her back. He cradled her face in his cold hands and she shivered. "My daughter," he said wonderingly. "Oh, Lucy."

Mrs. Lovett watched as the girl's blue eyes widen, her face turning white. "Who are you?"

Anthony tried to take Johanna's hand, his face a study of confusion. Mrs. Lovett shook her head at him. She had been afraid of this…now it would all end badly, and she would have to be the one to calm him down. 'Twasn't an easy job at all. Not with a man like Mr. Todd – not even a man like Benjamin Barker.

"Johanna, believe me. Judge Turpin, he…he stole you away from me, you and your mother, he exiled me-"

"You killed him," she exclaimed, her nightingale voice rising higher. "You killed him, I saw…I was hiding in that chest over there, you didn't see me…"

She yanked her head away, clearly agitated.

A trace of the old gentility came through as he clasped his hands behind his back earnestly. "I did it for you, for Lucy…he had to pay, don't you understand? They all had to pay for what they did."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she shook her head, no no no. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it and buried her head in Anthony's jacket. "Blood everywhere," she sobbed, as her beau stroked her back tenderly, trying to lift her chin to look at her. Ever observant, Nellie saw how tight the barber's fist was clenched, and how his slim frame had begun to shake. She put her arm through his tentatively, and he slumped against her. Marveling at his vulnerability, she guided him over to the chair and sat him down. She knelt before him and put a cool hand on his cheek, kissing his forehead lightly.

"Ah, Mr. T. What will I ever do with you?" she murmured. Anthony approached slowly, Johanna still sniffling, pressed against his side. Nellie shot him a disapproving look, but he proceeded anyway.

"Mr. Todd?"

"Aye, lad," came from the chair weakly.

"Whatever happened…I can never thank you enough for helping me and Johanna. There is a darkness within you, sir, but I hope you can overcome it." He glanced at the girl anxiously, and she stepped towards the chair, a small, twisted smile on her face. She bent forward and kissed her father lightly on his pale cheek, rosebud lips barely touching his face.

"Good-bye, Benjamin Barker," she said. "I wish I could understand." She straightened up to leave, and he grasped her arm tightly.

"Don't leave," he rasped, infinite pain written on his face.

"I must," she said firmly, tugging her arm away. He let go surprisingly easy. Anthony ushered Johanna out of the room, glancing behind only once, and shut the door behind him. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Golden hair, just like her mother…"


	2. My Lord and Lady

Welcome to the Grave

Whee, chapter two! Fixed a couple things in this chapter (thanks, Lady Charity and Volley-Baller100), because I am somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to writing. Anyway, hopefully I'll get the third chapter up soon.

Chapter Two: **My Lord and Lady**

"Well, no sense dwelling on the past. You done what you came here to do." Mrs. Lovett took his shoulders and hauled him to his feet, draping his arm around her. She stumbled to the door and down the stairs, muttering under her breath.

"They 'ad to get him all worked up…it's alright, Mr. T, rest yourself, I'll get a fire going…" She lay his limp form down on the sofa, and poked at the dying embers with a poker. "Come on, come on…" A spark flared up and she sat back on her heels, pleased. The weak firelight highlighted the dark circles under her eyes as she turned back to look at the barber. Anthony didn't know how close he had come to dying – if they had waited until the shock had worn off, the boy would have never seen his songbird again.

"Better?"

His only answer was a groan. The harsh points of her expression smoothed out as she looked at him, and her face looked younger, softer. She got up from the floor, brushing her hands clean of soot, and sat on the sofa next to Sweeney. His thick, dark eyelashes cast shadows on the white smoothness of his face, and she thought, not for the first time, that he was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Almost like he was made of some stone, harsh and unyielding. Beautiful in a different way than Benjamin Barker ever was. She smoothed a lock of black hair out of his eyes and put a hand on his forehead. "What's the matter, love?"

He opened his eyes and stared at her balefully, sitting up. He didn't say anything, just blankly looked at her with those soulless eyes.

"It's been a long time, you know. We'll see them again." Taking advantage of his sadness (she wasn't evil, she _wasn't_), she rested her head softly on the hollow above his collarbone. Absently, he lifted his hand and began to stroke her back. _No doubt thinking of his __dunderheaded __Lucy,_ she thought bitterly. Still, he was touching her.

She bit her lip, debating on how far to go before he actually realized what she was doing. She skimmed her palm down his arm, the white shirt cuffed at his elbow. Nellie hesitated a moment, then took his hand with its long, delicate fingers, holding it in both of her own. She turned it over and kissed his palm. She closed her eyes, pretending that she was the thing foremost in his mind.

He finally focused his gaze, and his forehead wrinkled in that endearing way when he noticed that his hand cupped her face. He tilted her chin so that flames danced across her cheek. She didn't dare to open her eyes. Sweeney studied the play of shadow and light on her skin, pretending that it was a pattern of blood splashed across her face. _Beautiful_, he found himself thinking. He had never thought of Mrs. Lovett as being that interesting before. Worthy of observing.

"We?" he asked, curious to hear her answer.

She looked up at him with wounded eyes. "You're going to leave me all alone, Mr. Todd? It's right nice of you to give some notice. I ought to start packing my bags, shall I?"

"I'm not leaving." he said shortly. She had disappointed him. He wasn't even sure what he had wanted her to say.

"Then why'd you say-"

"I don't know, I don't know!" He pushed Mrs. Lovett off and stood up, beginning to pace around the small room.

"There's no need for hysterics, you silly man." She stayed dignified, even as he glowered at her. "Ever since you offed that judge you 'avent a thought to what happens next. Soon I'll run out of pies, and then what's to do? Sit here and starve?"

He put his hands on both sides of his head like he was trying to hold himself together. Her voice turned wheedling.

"I always planned on getting married again, y'know. We can sell the shop…" she trailed off as he stared at the flickering flames, muttering to himself. She was sick of the whole business – she had lived the nightmare, now she wanted the daydream. The seaside…where she wouldn't have to worry about toes and fingers and whatnot not being properly ground up, wouldn't have to hear the dull thud of some poor bugger hitting the hard cobblestones echoing in her head as she served up the meat-pies that everyone clamored for. She wanted to be truly clean for once, instead of smelling like the harbinger of death.

"Live by the sea…" she breathed out, blinking furiously. He finally turned slowly, looked at her. Surprised at the sudden eye-contact, she looked down into her lap and began to dig at the dirt and flour and god-knows-what-else embedded underneath her fingernails.

"Mrs. Lovett," he began, "We are going on a trip."

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Oh, Mr. T, we can't. Let them go, the boy ain't never done you no harm. It's over."

The corner of his mouth turned up, the expression on his face deliciously wicked. "On a ship, Mrs. Lovett! Right next to the sea! _In _the sea!"

_Only the two of them._ Her mind started to work overtime as she realized the implications of what he was saying. It would be smart to get out of the country for a bit, especially now that the judge had gone suspiciously missing. Ah, well, Lucy's girl and her admirer would have to take care of themselves. She wasn't the patron saint troubled, innocent youth, after all. She sat there, pondering over the notion.

"Wot about the shop?"

"Sell it, as you so helpfully suggested yourself. Give it t' some poor beggar off the street."

A slow smile spread across her face, and she knew that her eyes matched his own. She stood up and held out her arm, like a true lady would. He took it, just like a real gentleman, and they walked towards the door together. She spun around to face him, eyebrows raised. She knew why he kept her around. Disillusioned she might be, but no one could ever say she was stupid.

"We've quite a bit of planning to do, my lord."

He bowed theatrically, the white streak in his hair matching the paleness of his face. "After you, my lady."

The cold wind hit them as they stepped out of the door together.

* * *

Johanna hurried after Anthony, still dressed in sailor's garb. He told her, under his breath, to keep her head down in case anyone recognized her as the Judge's ward. She did so obediently, her mind whirling as it had never done before. She wanted to scream and have a tantrum and act like a 16 year-old girl instead of a bird in a gilded cage.

"But Antony-"

"Shhh," he whispered. "Wait 'till we get to the ship-yard.

She fell silent, her face pale with shock. Now, she was sure, her nightmares would never go away. The screams of the other girls in Bedlam haunted her at night, and even in the daytime. The blood-spattered face of Sweeney Todd – her father? Could it be? – floated to the forefront of her mind every time Anthony told her that she would be safe now, and no one would ever steal her away.

She tripped on an uneven cobblestone and fell forward, only to be caught by the warm boy at her side. Yes, he was nothing more than a boy. But she would rather be with a boy who loved her, who she might have the possibility of loving. Johanna had always been surrounded by men; men who pretended to be her father and then turned around and asked for her hand in marriage. Men who watched her every move and never allowed her to say anything to the contrary.

The kind, unlined face of Anthony smiled down at her, his hand enveloping hers. She felt safe – but she knew it was only for a moment, that nothing could last. The man with the haunted eyes would follow her; she knew it to be true, even if Anthony believed in Mr. Todd's goodness.

They finally reached the docks, and Johanna stood a little behind Anthony as he presented their tickets to the man standing in front of the ship they were to sail away on. The man inspected the tickets and nodded gruffly.

"Got any baggage?"

"Only what I can carry, sir," Anthony said. He and Johanna had two bags between them, both carried on Anthony's back.

The man scrutinized Anthony, the weathered skin beneath his eyes crinkling as he smiled in amusement. "Anthony Hope, innit? You've grown up, boy."

Johanna glanced up at Anthony's shell-shocked face. Was it bad that this man had recognized him? Would they be caught and handed over to the police?

"You don' recognize me? Old Cap'n Sanders, wot gave you your first sailing lesson?"

"Oh!" Anthony's face broke into a wide smile, and he shook the hand that was offered to him. "Of course I remember you, Captain." He glanced at the ship behind them, rocking gently on the waves. "Is she yours?"

"Aye, she is. A good missus, most trustworthy ship you'll ever lay eyes on. Still sailing, are ye?" The captain lowered his voice confidentially. "And who is th' young lady?"

Anthony looked confused – Johanna had her hair tucked away underneath her hat, and she wore men's boots.

The older man laughed and winked as if he was sharing some unspoken secret. "I know a girl when I see one, lad. Wot's she hidin' away for?"

Anthony looked around, obviously uneasy with being out on the open dock. "Can we talk inside, sir? It's a pretty long story."

"And a good one, from the looks of it," Captain Sanders added. He ushered them up the plank, and they gratefully followed him. None of them looked behind them to see a face, shadowed by a dirty bonnet, watching them out of the gloom. The figure crept away, unnoticed.


	3. Blind Sight

Hey guys, sorry it took so long to get this up. Life tends to get in the way, unfortunately.

**Ch 3:** Blind Sight

* * *

The deadly pair strolled through the streets of London, occupied by such a wide variety of people it was impossible to walk without violating someone else's space. Vendors shouted the praises of their wares endlessly, causing one older woman to put her hands over her ears and hurry away, looking disgruntled. Mrs. Lovett breathed in the air, polluted by the factories that had sprung up all over London. This was her place- where she had lived for most of her life. And for the majority of it, she had been lonely or alone. Providence was smiling down upon her, she thought, to finally have the man she had wanted for years walking alongside her.

No matter that he was almost as unresponsive as one of her meat pies; they were still walking side by side, her arm twined within his. She could stop him with a word and a hand on his arm. Anything could set him off: an older gentleman with a haughty air and finely-made clothes, a boy walking with a girl with hair as golden as wheat. His lust for blood, it seemed, was not completely satiated. This was fine with her, so long as she survived the rest of it.

A boy jumped out at her waving around bottles of some mixture and proclaimed that it would make her hair as smooth and soft "as a lydy's, mum. Swear on me life." She smiled sadly at the grubby street urchin that reminded her so much of little Toby. She ducked her fingers into her purse for a penny as Mr. T watched impassively, with a slightly confused look on his face. Nellie handed it to the boy who ran off yelling his thanks after shoving the bottle into her hands. She continued walking, looking straight ahead to avoid thinking about the boy that had trusted her with his life, whom she had failed miserably. She felt Mr. Todd looking at her, and tilted her head up to glance at him.

"Wot?" she asked defensively.

He jerked his head at the boy's retreating form. "What'd you do that for?"

She shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "Felt like bein' charitable, I guess."

Sweeney grunted a response, which Mrs. Lovett took as a positive answer. She surged forward through the crowd, suddenly extremely impatient. Her silent companion kept pace with her easily, using his longer legs to an advantage.

"Where did the sailor say they were headed to?" She spoke quickly as they reached the docks, even more crowded with porters carrying bags and traders showing off their wares.

"Never told me," he muttered, his lip curling in dislike.

She stopped in the middle of the bustle, planting her hand on her hip. "Well, that's wonderful news, innit."

He looked at her, puzzled. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You silly man, how the 'ell are we gonna find them now?"

Mr. Todd bit down on his bottom lip, hard. He strode through the mass of people, and they parted for him as if he was on fire. Which, in a way, he was. There was no middle ground with Mr. T, really. He either burned, burned with intensity for life, for blood (how alive he was then! And Mrs. Lovett felt cold and dead in comparison); or he was as frigid as the seas of the English Channel.

She was afraid to touch him now, for fear of singeing her fingertips. She followed behind him quickly, watching as he accosted a beggar woman dressed in rags. The ragged woman wailed at Sweeney plaintively – "Awlms, awlms…"

Mrs. Lovett gasped as she recognized the woman with the stringy hair that had once been blonde. "Not her again…" she murmured to herself, moving forward to push her out of the way.

Sweeney Todd barely noticed, searching the crowd anxiously. "You there, 'ave you seen a young man and a lady with yellow hair?"

The beggar stopped her cry and pulled the barber closer, whispering in his ear. "Over there, I saw 'em, I did. Pretty little Johanna, little bird flew out of th' nest. Ship's 'eaded towards France, but she's gone now. Gone, gone, gone…"

Nellie watched in trepidation as he brushed past the woman, dropping a coin into her greedy palm. He was too occupied to truly look at the face of any street beggar. She blew past as well, not even looking behind her as the beggar woman grabbed at the back of her dress and mouthed incoherent curses.

She picked up her petticoats and fairly ran after Mr. T, who had finally reached the empty place where a ship should have been floating in the current. He stared out into the open sea, his eyes glassy. "She's gone…" he echoed.

"No, no, Mr. T, don't fret. We'll find them; we'll get on another ship headin' out in the same direction. Ought not to be much of a trouble."

She noticed a porter without any bags and stopped him with a word. "Sir, do you know of any ships goin' out to sea fast-like?"

The brute of a man thought for a second, then nodded ponderously. "That one over there," he pointed. A solitary cargo-ship sat bobbing up and down, _The Seahawk_ written in white on its side.

"And when is it leaving? Would it be possible t' go along for the ride?" She stepped closer to the man, smiling slyly. Sweeney watched her distantly, though faint signs of mirth were visible on his face for her antics. The larger man scratched his head, looking cornered.

"The captains coming right back, you can ask 'im then." And the porter lumbered off in search of more profitable customers. Mrs. Lovett turned back to Mr. Todd and winked. "I get things done, don't I?"

And minutes later they were conversing with the captain of the _Seahawk_ who told them they could come along for a pretty penny, and that the ship was leaving at sunrise. It started to rain just as they finished talking.

The pair walked away, with Nellie particularly pleased with herself. Even if the hem of her dress was all wet and muddy, her lips chapped, and her hair all in disarray, it was a profitable evening. Well, not profitable in a money sense. Profitable in a maybe-Mr. T-would-eat-with-her-tonight sense. She patted his arm as he walked beside her, his entire body coiled and waiting like some sort of wild animal. The tightness of his muscles was evident even under the jacket he wore, and Mrs. Lovett half expected the rain to hiss and sizzle as it hit his head and dripped down his pallid face.

"It all worked out, dear. Now we'll just go home and I'll close up shop. Don't know how long we'll be gone, but I don't want to sell it. We'll still need a place to come back to…"

She continued to chatter as they neared the shop, with a sign outside asserting that Mrs. Lovett's meat pies were indeed the best in London. Just as they were about to go in, Mr. Todd stopped and tilted his face upward towards the falling drops of water. Mrs. Lovett tugged on his arm, but he yanked it away and continued to stand there.

She stared at him in amazement. "Mr. T, you'll catch your death like that."

He slowly shook his head. "It feels good," he said in a low voice. "D'you know, rain doesn't fall much in Australia? Funny thing, really. Men died of thirst every day. Endless sand, no shade in sight. One of them asked me for some water…I left 'im lying there." He turned on her then, with a savagery that made her put her hand to her throat and step back, tripping on the hem of her dress. "Do you see now what I am, Mrs. Lovett? Why don't you see?" And he shook her shoulders roughly. Her eyes never left his face, twisted with pain and madness. The true feelings behind the emotionless mask.

"I know you, Benjamin. There's still good in you-"

"Don't call me that," he snarled, turning away.

"Look at me!" she whispered urgently, catching his face between her two hands. He glared at her with an unholy hate and passion, like the devil had possessed him. Nellie would not look away from those terrible eyes. The flames soon cooled, and she stepped back from him, her hands shaking. She began breathing again, not realizing that she had even stopped. She unlocked the door in silence, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

The shop was darkened, and thunder rumbled through the foundations of the building, vibrated in her weary bones. She sighed in exhaustion, thinking of her creaky bed with the springs poking out of it. Maybe they would skip dinner tonight, with the way her companion was acting. She could tell that he was quickly spiraling down into one of his moods. She always steered clear of him on the days when bodies landed quickly on the cellar floor and heavy footsteps echoed above her head all night. Sweeney closed the door behind him. She could barely see anything in the dark. Nellie turned around to light a candle, and lightning flashed for an instant, giving her a stark view of the room.

They were plunged into darkness again, and Mrs. Lovett felt rough hands on her back, pulling her towards a shadowy figure. She allowed herself be led, yielding as harsh lips bruised her mouth, bit down on her lip and drew blood. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and she moaned, fitting her body more closely to his. He trailed down her white neck, catching skin in between his teeth.

It felt like days and existed within the span of seconds. It was exquisite torture, and her very soul delighted in it. Too soon, he pushed her away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He felt dirty, disgusted with himself as he watched the woman touch her fingers delicately to her mouth, then her neck. A red ruby glistened on her lip, and he tasted the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He still _wanted_ her, simply because she was there for the taking, because he hadn't been so close to a woman in 15 long years…

_No._ He forced his eyes away from her swollen mouth, the delicate features of her face softened in the dark. _He would not betray Lucy_.

Sweeney looked away from her, even as he felt her longing.

"Good-night, Mrs. Lovett."

And he disappeared up the stairs. She collapsed in a chair in the living room, weak with regret. She rolled her head back on the chair, the stinging of her lip fairly decent company. There was packing for her to do, and so many other loose ends...As the constant creaking of floorboards started up above her head, she swore to herself that she would get him one day. And when that day came, she would never let him go.


	4. His Pet

Yeah, I'm not sure if I love or utterly loathe this chapter. It pretty much wrote itself and I couldn't change it. I'll let you guys decide.

Chapter Four: **His Pet**

* * *

Nellie tossed and turned in her creaky bed, opening her eyes and glaring at the ceiling. She had all her meager belongings packed (made a little less meager from the profits of Mr. Todd's customers), and she was sure that the barber hadn't slept a wink in the few hours they had before heading off to the docks. She blew air through red lips and willed her body upright. Sleepily, she dressed herself in an older dress - no black lace on this one – and stuffed her feet into sturdy boots that had served her well in the past. She snuck a look at herself in a small hand mirror that was a gift from the late Mr. Lovett, and frowned at her reflection. She was as white as a ghost, with red marks staining her neck and purple circles prominent under brown eyes. 

She shrugged philosophically to herself and heaved her bag out into the hallway before going upstairs to pay a visit to Sweeney Todd. It was still dark outside, the streets quiet for once. Mrs. Lovett walked up the stairs to his tonsorial parlor, knocking on the door lightly. It swung open at once.

"Mr. T?"

She peeked in and saw him staring out of that damned window, one arm leaning on the frame. He didn't turn around right away, but waited for her to come to him. She approached him cautiously, not quite sure whether to touch him or not.

"Mr. T, it'll be daybreak soon, and we'd best be going."

She touched his shoulder, feather-light. He turned to face her, searching her face in the half-gloom. "Mrs. Lovett-"

She shushed him. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say, not if it was anything to ruin her dreams. "Not now, my dear. Come along, have you got your clothes?"

He lifted a bag onto his shoulder, and she saw the tell-tale glint of his razors half-hidden within a pocket. He became a different man with those things – what used to give Mr. Barker such an innocent joy was now the subject of a twisted obsession for Sweeney Todd. And she had given them to him.

He moved so silently that he was walking down the steps before she even noticed he was out of the room. She stepped after him, huffing down the stairs. He waited silently for her outside as she fetched her bag, and then they walked into the pre-morning mist, the air smelling strangely sweet and cool. There was no one outside, and Mrs. Lovett could hear her boot heels clicking against the cobblestones, a pleasing counterpoint to the tapping of Mr. Todd's boots. They walked in relative silence, the sleeve of her cloak occasionally brushing against his arm.

They soon reached the docks, and the captain appeared out of the darkness. He checked them closely, and then waved them on board. The minute Mrs. Lovett stepped on to the deck, she lost her balance and almost toppled onto Sweeney Todd. He instinctively grabbed her around the waist and set her back on her feet. She turned red and muttered something about how humans were meant to stay on solid ground. She had to stand still for a moment to get her bearings, then tried walking again. Just as she was about to take another step, the captain loomed in front of them again.

Sailors darted here and there, tightening ropes and batting down hatches. The captain eyed the strange couple curiously, wondering about their identities for the first time. Light was beginning to pierce through the gloom, and the older man squinted in order to see them better. A weak ray of light highlighted the raw skin on Mrs. Lovett's neck, and he glanced at Mr. Todd suspiciously. She could tell the man was getting nervous, so she grabbed on to Sweeney's arm and started to do what she did best: talk fast.

"Me husband and I…well, we decided we needed a bit of a change, y'see? London is a nice city and all, but it's awful loud and crowded, and seein' as my health is not the best-" she coughed for effect – "the doctor ordered some fresh sea wind to fix me up. Isn't that right, my love?"

The barber nodded solemnly, playing along.

The captain nodded grudgingly. "I guess that's in order. S'long as we don' have any trouble."

She shook her head quickly. "No trouble at all, sir."

He still looked wary, but elected a sailor to show them around the galley and the main deck, going down to show them their room.

"I suspect you'll only be needin' one room, aye?"

Mr. Todd opened his mouth to say something to the contrary, but Mrs. Lovett discreetly stamped down on his foot. He made a strangled noise and then fell silent.

"One room will be fine, thank you."

The sailor waited outside as Nellie walked into the humble room that was only a little higher than she was. Sweeney had to stoop a little to get through the doorway and stopped in the middle of the small space.

"Well," she said briskly, "this is quite fittin' for a married couple, I think. We'll do just fine here."

The grubby sailor pulled on his forelock in a sign of humility, then bobbed his head. "Only doin' my duty, mum. Call if you need anything." With that, he left them standing awkwardly side-by-side.

"There's one bed," Sweeney pointed out, rather unhelpfully.

"So there is," she retorted. "You weren't expectin' anything fancy, were you?"

He didn't answer her.

"I'm going to rest for a bit," she declared, kicking off her boots and collapsing on the bed. She raised herself up a moment later and made a face, picking a little black bug off the comforter. "Hope you don't mind bedbugs, love."

He wheeled around and bolted out of the little room, carrying his bag with him

"Don't you go slitting anyone's throats, now," she called after him before laying her head back down on the mattress.

Sweeney paced the deck, ignoring the pointed stares of the crew. The _Seahawk_ plunged through cresting waves, leaving a trail of foam in her wake. He rubbed his hand along the rough wood of the railing absently, humming to himself. Failure was far away from his mind – he _would_ find Johanna and bring her back with him. Ships crossed paths occasionally, didn't they? Stranger things had happened in his lifetime. Anthony managed to spot his little dinghy far out into the ocean and saved his pathetic excuse for a life. _Stranger things have happened_, he repeated to himself. For now, he just had to deal with Mrs. Lovett and work on restraint. He couldn't touch her again, couldn't be near her. It would ruin him completely. He sighed and leaned his head heavily in his hand, staring out into the implacable sea. He looked down and saw a smooth, shining fin cut arch through the water. Mr. Todd leaned a little farther out until he saw a dark eye shining up at him. Another dolphin crashed through the waves, twisting and turning and shining in the weak light. He didn't smile, but nodded his head at the animals. Maybe their insane plan would work out in the end. Maybe.

The haunted man stayed out there for hours, and all the sailors muttered amongst themselves that he was a bad omen. They felt the darkness encroach upon them every time he walked near, and that frightened them. Sweeney smiled at their fear, and stood stationary even as they all went into the galley for dinner, casting him uneasy looks.

The dolphins left in search of their own dinner, and Mr. Todd was left alone. He remembered a time when people felt comfortable around him, when he went out of his way to accommodate everyone. What an innocent fool he had been. To believe in the goodness of humankind, that was the only real sin in this world. He touched a hand to the razor hidden in his belt, and felt comforted. They waited patiently for him, never demanding. The sky darkened, and he remained, bracing himself against the blistering wind.

Mrs. Lovett sat up abruptly and yawned, rubbing her eyes. It was completely dark in the little cabin, and she felt uneasy. Had she slept all day? She did feel slightly nauseas from the constant rocking of the ship. She reached a hand out to the other side of the bed, and felt the absence of another person. Of course he would be missing. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized that she must have skipped dinner. Probably didn't miss much. Still, she wouldn't mind hardtack and gravy about now. Blinking quickly to adjust her eyes to the dark, she reached down and pulled her boots on, intent on finding Mr. T and insisting he got a good-night's sleep.

She exited the little room cautiously, and sighed with a sweet, patient look on her face when she saw the back of a leather jacket, silhouetted black against the moonlight. Nellie went to stand next to him in silence, gazing out onto the everlasting darkness. Tilting her head up, she was amazed at all the different stars peppering the sky. The London sky was always filled with smog, and no one was flighty enough to look up anyhow.

"Beautiful," she murmured to herself. She felt Mr. Todd turn his head to look at her. His eyes were deep, sunken shadows, and she felt that she was standing next to some otherworldly creature, not quite sure what he was capable of doing.

"Wot did you say?"

"The stars," she pointed to the sky. "Aren't they just the prettiest things you've ever seen?"

He stretched an arm out and she recoiled. Her slight motion did not go unnoticed. He softened his voice from the usual growling tone. "The North Star. Polaris." Her gaze followed the line of his hand until she saw a star brighter than the ones surrounding it. "Oh," she breathed.

"Every sailor's got to know that star." He traced the W in the sky. "An' that's Cassiopeia."

He glanced over at her, transfixed by the bright lights against the velvety dark. He wished she would leave him alone and stop trying. He wished she would go away so he could stop caring. There wasn't room in his blackened heart for another, and she knew that. Still she persevered. And now she looked so vulnerable, so unlike the Mrs. Lovett he loved to hate.

Nellie felt insignificant in the face of the cosmos. She felt like she didn't deserve any part of it. The endless sea, the small sound of the waves slapping against the hull of the ship like the clapping of a baby's hands made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She was really only a simple woman at heart. She didn't want for much. A family, happiness… She turned away to go back inside the cramped cabin, where her thoughts could only reach as far as the ceiling. She hesitated a moment, then reached up and kissed Sweeney Todd on his cold, marble cheek. He let her leave, his fingers gripping the wood tightly.

Once in the small space, she set her jaw and stripped down to her simple cotton shift. She crawled underneath the quilt, slapping at a bug on her leg. She willed herself to shut her eyes and go to sleep again, but she was wide awake. Just as she shifted to get more comfortable, she heard footsteps entering the room. She froze, then shut her eyes tightly. He still had those damned razors with him…

She lay there, fully expecting to feel the cold edge of a blade against her neck. Strangely, she was not afraid. Mrs. Lovett got another shock as she felt his weight roll on to the bed right next to her.

"Mr. T?" she whispered. Getting no response, she turned over, just a little. She stretched out an arm and made contact with the rough linen of his white shirt. Her fingers found his wrist; felt his slow pulse through the thin skin. They trailed up his arm and rested on his collarbone. His bare skin was warm and soft. He remained motionless as she moved her hand down his sculpted chest, stopping just above his heart. She kept her hand there, the beating of his heart comforting.

"See, now. You're just as alive as I am."

He made some sort of sound, and she smiled in the dark. "I always said you was a good man, Mr. Todd."

"Wot makes you so sure? I could…" he shifted so that he looked down at her, leaning up on one elbow. He put one hand around her neck, and it reached almost the whole way around. "I could kill you right now," he said hollowly. They both knew that he wasn't going to. Not tonight.

"You 'avent killed a woman yet."

"I could start."

"D'you hate me that much?"

The pressure around her neck disappeared. She heard his breathing quicken, and she reached towards him with both arms. "My love," she breathed. "Let me…"

Nellie buried her head in his shoulder as his hands moved down her body, grasping and needy. She let him pull the straps from her shoulders, his calloused fingers digging against her skin. She hummed in his ear, planting kisses along his sharp jaw line as she felt his hand sliding up her leg. He muffled her yell of pain and pleasure as they came together, a tangle of pale bodies and entwined limbs.

He was not gentle or particularly loving, but Mrs. Lovett thought that she understood. She _wanted_ to understand as he pulled the comforter back over his shoulders, turning his back to her as though there was nothing left to say after what they had just done. She lay there, still breathing hard, feeling the sore places that would be bruises tomorrow.

In a perfect world, it would have been everything she had dreamed it would be. He, the perfect gentleman, would have demanded to marry her right away. As it was, she would always be second best. She didn't expect anything better, not in real life. Only in her fantasies did he kiss her softly and tell her that he loved her. Even this exceptional man was no different than the others. In this twisted game, neither person could win. They would hurt each other again and again, in so many different ways.

Now, she stared at his scarred back, her eyes welling up for some inexplicable reason. She got what she wanted, didn't she? She blinked, once, twice. He rolled towards her, silent even in his sleep. Mrs. Lovett snuggled up to him, needing something more. She wrapped her arms around his slim waist and held him close, resting her head below his chin.

He sighed, restless and dreaming, and held her tightly. "Lucy…"

Within the circle of his arms, she felt cold. Even lying next to her like he was, he was a million miles away. As she prayed for him to love her, she realized bitterly that she would never truly have him. She could only pretend.


	5. Only Nightmares

Another chapter! And we get a flashback in this one. And I'd like to thank all my amazing reviewers, as always. You guys honestly keep me writing this story. And without further ado...

Chapter Five: **Only Nightmares**

The sea was completely still; the sails hung low without any wind to push them proudly forward. The sky was an ominous color, and the air pressed down upon every person on the ship. It blanketed them, enveloped them in discomfort and suspicion. The crew lazed around with nothing to do besides keep an eye on the strange weather and fasten down the sails in case of a storm.

Mrs. Lovett watched Sweeney carve designs in the wood beside the doorframe. The incessant scratching irritated her, and his intense concentration on the simple task made it all the easier for her to study the focused contours of his face. She didn't want to look – she_ didn't_. But she couldn't look away as long as he was this near. As long as he was tolerant of her.

The heavy air hit her hard, especially in the cabin. She sat in a rickety chair, her cheek in her palm, the other hand attempting to fan the air. All she succeeded in doing was to move the warm air in circles and tire her arm out.

"Would you stop that? 's giving me a head-ache."

He went on scratching.

"You'll ruin the blade. That's just makin' the edge dull…"

That he listened to. He snapped the blade shut, then open, then shut, then open again…

"Mr. T!"

"Why aren't we moving?" he growled.

Nellie shrugged. "I dunno. Go and ask the captain. Looks to be a bad storm, though…"

Mr. Todd turned and threw his leather jacket on the bed in anger. It landed with a vicious thump, but Mrs. Lovett barely moved from her spot. She had lived through too much to have his temper tantrums scare her anymore.

"Easy, love," she cautioned. "Don't break anything, we haven't got the money wot to replace it with."

"They're getting away," he said tersely.

She eyed his tense figure without the bulky jacket, the broad shoulders hunched up in anxiety. She remembered the feel of those shoulders underneath her searching hands…

"Mrs. Lovett."

She blinked and looked up, surprised to see that he was standing right there. He had a frenzied, pleading look on his face. He bent down and took hold of her shoulders, shaking her.

"They're getting away," he enunciated every word clearly.

Nellie knew that translated into – what do we do now? – and she had to hold back a smile, because she knew he needed her. And he would figure it out sooner or later, even if he hadn't already.

"They're on the same sea we are, right? The storm'll find them, and they'll be stuck, same as us. See? Not so bad, dear."

He relaxed a little and let go of her, breathing deeply. It was her that he turned to for help, only her. Her highs and lows swung giddily out of balance, and she wondered if maybe you could catch insanity. She had never thought of herself as insane before _he_ returned.

"You're right, of course you're right," he muttered. "Why didn't I-"

"Quite all right, Mr. T. How about you rest your head for a while, might help matters."

Sweeney stared at her like she was a mad woman, his eyes unfocused. She stared back, focusing her gaze on his bottom lip.

"Ah, might as well," she said, and leaned forward to kiss him just as the ship rocked violently, throwing them both off balance. They landed on the floor, the unfortunate barber on the bottom. Nellie opened her eyes wide and smiled down at him playfully.

"Why Mr. Todd, you just saved my life."

His eyes went heavenward and he growled in annoyance. "Wonderful. Get off."

She rolled off in a huff, sweeping the dust off her dress with both hands. It didn't help much, and she soon gave up.

"Shall we see wot happened up there?"

The agitated man nodded and they ventured onto the deck, stepping back hurriedly as sailors scurried across their path. The sky had darkened even further, the clouds turning a sickly yellow color. Sailors were bailing water off the sides of the ship, but they had been well-prepared for this storm. The sun was completely hidden, and Mrs. Lovett shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. Sweeney scowled as he saw the rough waves breaking on the bow, the figurehead dipping into the ocean and then coming back up streaming with water.

Nellie watched his expression darken and she started biting the inside of her lip. "Is it bad?"

As she spoke, the heavens opened up and rain started pouring down. He opened his mouth to answer her just as the captain came trudging through the half-inch of water already covering the deck. He took a hold on Mrs. Lovett's arm and yelled over the roar of the ocean.

"Come with me, it's much safer down below," he shouted. She shook him off, scared but resolute.

"I think I'll take my chances, sir," she yelled back.

The captain's face grew red. "You're bloody mad-"

She tuned out the captains tirade when she heard a faint whisper in her ear.

"Go," he said. She looked up at him, her eyes blurred with rain. His wet hair darkened by the rain clung to his bloodless face, and she gently touched his freezing cheek.

"But, Mr. T…"

"Go," he insisted louder. He gripped her arm tightly, and she winced. Mrs. Lovett pulled away again, defiant. "No!"

"Then I'll take you myself, you wretched woman."

With that, he marched off, dragging her along as she struggled against him. The captain was left suddenly alone, squinting to see the two resolute figures, only their outlines visible through the pelting water.

Sweeney threw her into the relatively dry sailor's quarters below the deck, even as she fought to get back.

"Let me _help_, you son-of-a-"

He clamped his hand over her mouth as she tried to yell out curses that would make some of the sailors blush. He snatched his hand away quickly, though, when she tried to bite it. She took a deep breath to keep yelling, and then he silenced her again by kissing her harshly, sucking all the air out of her lungs. Nellie tasted seawater. He pulled back, smiling devilishly.

"Better?"

She licked her lips, and then slapped him. He cocked his head, feeling his jaw gingerly.

"You could be a fisherman's wife with that language, my pet…"

She studied his face curiously. It was alight with a wild, almost primal happiness in the face of danger. He had never seemed so _alive_, not since that one perfect day when he spun her around the shop, singing of neighbors and friends and enemies all being cooked in her pies. And, she supposed, when he finally killed the Judge.

"Be careful, Mr. Todd. You ain't got any common sense at all."

He didn't pay any attention to her (as usual), only opened the door with the wind howling and sails snapping. He looked over his shoulder at her glum face. "Desperate times, Mrs. Lovett," he reminded her, then slammed the door shut.

* * *

Anthony couldn't help but stare at Johanna, changed out of the rough sailor's clothes. Her yellow hair seemed to glow as she sat quietly at the little desk in their room, writing on a few precious pieces of paper that he had managed to find for her. It was obvious that she was still upset and confused, but hiding it under a gentle demeanor.

She looked up at him, smiling uncertainly. "Is everything alright?"

He blushed from being caught watching her. "Yes, everything is fine. Are – how are you doing?"

Her head shook from side to side as she stared to the side, the blue eyes rimmed with pale lashes a little blood-shot. "I don't understand, Antony. How could he be my father? He…doesn't look anything like me…"

"Mr. Todd?"

"Mr. Barker, really," she corrected him. "All those years, they lied to me."

Anthony took her hands earnestly as she furrowed her brow. _So cold_, he thought, and rubbed them gently between his own. "We'll put this all behind us. I'd give you the world, Johanna."

The edge of her mouth twitched. "He won't give up, I know it."

"I think he will," Anthony disagreed. "He owes me a favor."

She pulled her hands back. "Nothing disappears forever. They always come back."

"_Please_ don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

She sighed, so softly that he couldn't hear it. "If you say so, Antony."

He smiled. "Good. I'm going up to check with the Captain Sanders about the weather."

She nodded her head as he rushed out of the room, then grabbed at a corner of the desk as the chair began to slide a little to the right. She frowned, her little white-knuckled hands grasping at the wood as she fought to keep her balance. _What was happening? _

Johanna was about to call for help as the wooden floor creaked, then decided better of it. She had always learned to endure in silence – to never say a word to her imposing guardian. From as far back as she could remember, the Judge had always been a dark figure in the doorway, threatening in some way that she couldn't understand. Her eyes squeezed shut as one memory floated to the surface…

_"You can come out once you learn to obey your elders. Nobody cares for a willful child, Johanna."_

_The door creaks shut as she rushes__ forward, banging on the hard wood. Her little,__ bony fists grow bruised and tears streak__ down her pale cheeks. All because she had refused to call him Father…__She sits__ down on the flo__or, knowing that the maid won't__ be very happy __to see her new dress spoiled. It is her seventh birthday, and she hadn't even been able to taste the cake._

_She catches her breath in a horrified gasp as she sees a very large spider crawling towards her, its legs moving horribly. Johanna gulps through her tears, for some reason immobilized. She cannot move away from the spider, moving ever so slowly but closer and closer…__She screams and screams __for someone to come kill it but nobody does. In her mind, this is the worst thing that could possibly happen to her.__ She stares hatefully around the familiar room, wishing that she could open a window and fly away. She would never come back, ever, ever. With a strangely adult look on her face, she lifts her hand and smashes the spider into the ground, feeling the delicate shell cave in on itself, goo smearing itself on her palm. Her hand is lifted off the floor, and she watches at the __insect, one of its legs moving feebly. Staring at her hand, she puts it gently to her hair then rips out the bow that nestles in her golden curls, throwing it on the floor next to the dead spider. She retreats into silence and huddles in a corner of the room, her arms wrapped around her legs. Johanna doesn't even notice when a maid comes in hours later, clucking at the state of her clothes._

She opened her eyes and heard thunder echoing somewhere above her head. _I never had dreams. __Only nightmares._


	6. All Fall Down

Sorry this one took me a while, but I've been trying to work out logistics (_why _do stories have a need to make sense?). Didn't really work out so well, so just enjoy it before midterms start. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

Ch 6: **All Fall Down**

* * *

The scene came in flashes of lightning – struggling men, their bodies wasted, gasping for breath as water falling from the sky drowned them as they stood. They called out for help, and knew that none would come. They struggled against the elements, pitting their frail human selves against the one unstoppable power. Different people, all equally doomed. A girl scrambled, wide-eyed, across the floor as furniture hurled itself against walls, wedged itself under the door. A man with the same pale complexion smiled grimly at the looming waves, keeping his balance upon the water-soaked deck as others were swept off the sides in a riotous fury of seawater and foam. A woman with wispy hair and a bedraggled appearance stared above her head in resigned fear. That was what happened when the true nature of things was challenged. 

_With power and glory forever and eve__r…_

A young man fought with with a flailing sail, attempted to gather the struggling, heavy material in his arms like a baby. Cold, numbed fingers tried to untie the hardened knot as the line snapped against his rigid body in the wind. Another man screamed as the mast creaked, the wood splintering at the base. Anthony closed his eyes and continued to fight with the sail, high above the roiling waves and panicking sailors. He glanced down for just a second, watching as the deck was consumed by another rush of sea. The line suddenly slackened underneath his bleeding fingers, and he blinked hard to get the water out of his eyes. The sail snapped back again, this time breaking free of its restraints and snatched away, held aloft by the wind. The gust of air ripped the sail and sent it into the horizon where more ominous swells lifted.

Anthony stayed tangled in the shrouds as the ship tipped to the side, swinging him dangerously close to the churning water. He started praying as the mast hit the deck with an almighty crash, scattering sailors. He thought nothing of his own safety, but only the woman whose name chapped lips whispered reverently: "_Johanna, Johanna…__"_

"My little lamb, my pet, Johanna…"

Sweeney rhythmically scooped water up from the side of the ship, throwing it out just as soon as it crashed back in. Acrid water filled his mouth every time he took a breath, some traveling down his throat. He felt disconnected from the whole scene, disconnected from the rest of his body. This, however, wasn't really any change from what he usually felt. The sailors running by in fear of their lives were pitiful, and Sweeney Todd sneered at their cowardice. Their lives were only precious at the point of death; the greatest irony of life. Death took whomever she pleased.

_For __Thine__ is the Kingdom…_

By chance, he glanced up beneath dripping locks and saw the captain, slumped over on the floor as the wheel spun rapidly.

_Life is too lon__g._

Sighing deeply, he forged a path through the howling wind towards the helm. A wave swept him back against the side of the ship, brought him abruptly back to the situation, and he felt the deep aching pain in his bones. Still, Sweeney somehow reached the captain and grabbed hold of the wheel, groaning a little as the force of the wheel fought against him. He put all of his weight into keeping the wheel steady, the spokes driving splinters into his hands. He supposed this would be a death worthy of all the golden heroes throughout history. Mr. Todd was no hero. And it was the demon in him that kept his heart beating.

His vision blurred – a sharp pain shot through his skull. A piece of wood clattered to the floor, and he laughed. He laughed at the pain of it, the joy…the two were connected, were they not?

All of a sudden, he felt a warm, sodden weight attach itself to his back. He rolled his head to the side and gazed steadily at the determined face of Mrs. Lovett. Somehow, it was just what he had expected. It was enough.

"Like I'd leave you alone out here, Mr. T," she whispered in his ear. He breathed in deeply as she buried her face in his neck, tying a rope around the both of them and the wheel. Dead or alive, neither of them would be lost to the sea.

_To breathe…_

He gasped and spluttered and couldn't even fight back. The winds seemed to be subsiding.

"I decided…to ruin your grand plan of…dying alone, y'see." The words were faint, but she was there, not dead-weight, she was alive and breathing, and something stirred within him.

"Should I be flattered, Mrs. Lovett?" his words grew softer as sleep threatened to overtake him.

_Such an adventure._

"Don't let it get t' your head," she answered tartly, clasping him as tightly as possible. The rain kept her awake even as Sweeney sunk into unconsciousness, and she didn't let go. She laid her cheek against his and promised whatever god was out there her undying devotion if they both lived through this (Our Father, who art in Heaven…)

All around them, the seas calmed slightly as the hellish day faded into night.

* * *

Mrs. Lovett awoke with a start, surprised to find that she was standing up. It took her a moment to realize the screaming pain in her body, her right arm feeling as if a million tiny bits of glass had buried themselves deep within the tender flesh. She didn't dare to look, only turned her attention to the man slumped over the wheel in front of her. Seeing one of his razors miraculously still tucked into belt, she grabbed it and sawed through the rope with slippery hands. Once free, she moved her fingers around, pleased to find that she could still feel pain. She froze as Mr. T groaned, moving feebly. 

Nellie lowered him to the floor, careful to support his head with her left arm instead of her right. She sucked in her breath as she saw a trickle of fresh blood run down his waxen cheek. Oh, if he died…she stumbled to her knees beside him, cradling his head in her lap like a baby. No, he wouldn't die. He couldn't.

"'Help!" she cried, the brittle echo of her voice shattering in the darkness. She supposed that the rest of the men were either sleeping, unconscious, or dead. Somewhat like the captain, who lay a couple of feet from them.

"Useless bunch of…" Nellie trailed off as she saw Sweeney shift his weight, rolling onto his side. He lifted his head and coughed horribly, a hacking noise that reminded Mrs. Lovett of the creak of the trapdoor as another body sailed into the bake house.

"Oh, my love…" she whispered, brushing hair out of his eyes, squeezed shut. She shook his shoulder gently, slapped his cheek.

"Wake up, dear, there's things t' be done."

He opened his dark eyes, agonizingly slow. "Is it dark, or have I gone blind?" His jaw was chattering from the cold.

Nellie felt like crying in relief. "It's night-time. The worst's over."

He grimaced as he tried to sit up, finally managing it with her help. "And whereabouts are we, Mrs. Lovett?"

"I couldn't tell you, Mr. T."

Turning around to face him, she caught sight of a bloody mat of hair on the side of his head. "Oh!" she gasped, horrified. "Your head, it's all…"

"Bloody," he agreed stoically. He staggered to his feet with Mrs. Lovett supporting him. He leaned his weight heavily onto her shoulder, and she stumbled a little.

"Where is the captain?"

She pointed silently to the crumpled body that had surprisingly not been thrown overboard.

"Dead?" he asked tonelessly.

Nellie shrugged. "I dunno. Too bad we're here, 'e would've made a nice pie."

They smirked in unison. He fell silent, looking out on the now untroubled sea. His hands clutched the slippery railing as Mrs. Lovett left him alone, going out to look for more sailors. She made her way below decks, calling out. It was dark, but she could just make out the shape of some hammocks, miraculously with people still inside of them. Their loud snoring convinced her that they were still alive. Soaking wet, but alive. She had to conclude, however, after vigorously shaking some of them, that they were to all intents and purposes dead to the world.

Sighing, she returned back to their room and rummaged to find an old blanket, relatively dry. She was in the middle of rummaging for another one when a sharp bolt of pain shot up her right arm again. Nellie almost sunk her teeth threw her lip in an effort not to scream. Slowly, she looked at the offending arm. There wasn't any blood, but her elbow jutted out at an uncomfortable angle. Gritting her teeth, she held it close to her body and carried the blanket with her other hand. She couldn't possibly be any worse than Mr. T, and he barely complained.

Hearing that terrible cough again, she hurried back to where he was standing. She draped the blanket over his shoulders and stood beside him.

His profile faced her, and his jaw was clenched in pain. She reached up, unthinking, with her bad arm, then cried out. Sweeney glanced at her sharply, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever.

"Wot's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," she waved it away (with her other arm). "Prob'ly just a bruise."

He looked down at her arm, narrowing his eyes. "More 'n that, I think. That's the bone over there."

It felt good to have him focus his attention on her for once. Even if it was just the mystery of her arm that was bothering him, she glowed as he reached out.

"May I?"

She nodded, tense as he handled her arm so gently. Oh, so gently, like it was made from porcelain. Like he used to touch his wife. Nellie gasped as he got too close to the tender spot.

"Broken, I'd say." He dropped his hands.

"How'd you know that?"

Mr. T shrugged. "Trained to be a doctor."

"Oh." She paused. "Well, I might not be a doctor, but I'd say that's a nasty blow t' the head."

He raised his hand to the swollen knot hidden under his hair. "Piece of wood, almost knocked me out."

She couldn't help but laugh at the situation they were in, the sound steeped in hysteria. There was another long silence.

"What do we do, then?" she asked him, her fingers nervously playing with his frayed sleeve.

"We can bind up your arm," he suggested, placing one finger on his forehead and rubbing delicately.

"But your head-"

"Is fine for now," he cut in abruptly. Nellie didn't push her luck – he had talked more in this short time than in their whole crazy pie-making enterprise. She waited as he stood there in thought, looking about to collapse. He nodded at the hem of her dress, and she understood immediately. She bent down and ripped off a swath of fabric all around the hem, leaving the skirt a few inches shorter. She handed him the fabric, and he quickly fashioned a makeshift sling from it, slowly placing her elbow through it. He tied it around her neck, and she drew in a breath at the closeness of him, even in their situation. Even with her arm throbbing like the dickens.

"All better," he said, surveying his work with a critical eye. She snorted sarcastically.

"Yes, all we need now is a new cap'n and some sails."

The skin between his brows furrowed, and he looked away from her as if she reminded him of something unpleasant. Mortality, he supposed. His and hers, both. The desperate cry of the unfortunate…Against his will, his eyes drifted shut.

"Mr. T, you can't fall asleep with an injury like that."

"What do you intend we do, then," he spoke through clenched teeth.

"Don't they 'ave any fresh water wot to clean it with?"

"Contaminated with sea water, most of it."

She sighed in frustration. "There's still rum," she offered.

He stopped at that and tilted his head thoughtfully. "There is still rum," he said slowly. "Go get some, in the hold."

She hurried down into the hold, trying not to move her arm in the sling. She grabbed as many bottles as she could hold with one arm and hand, ignoring the strange creaking noises that came from the warped wood.

"Here we are," she announced, dropping one on the floor at his feet by accident. Now it was her turn to stare at him for a while, formulating ideas. "You'll have to sit down," she decided.

Sweeney shot her a look. She stared pointedly at him until he gingerly sat himself down on the wet floor. She smiled and uncorked a bottle of grog, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

"It might sting a little."

Nellie separated the strands of his hair surrounding the area and then poured a little bit on the bloody mess. He stayed very still, though a vein jumped in his forehead and his broken nails cut into his palm.

"Sorry," she muttered, trying to see if it rinsed out any of the blood. She poured a little more on, and brightened as she started to see the actual cut.

"How about," his voice was strained and rough, "we wait until morning to do this?"

"But an infection might set in."

"I'll take my chances," he said with a pained expression.

She raised her eyebrows, but did as he said and corked the bottle back up. She kneeled beside him without invitation, and he unconsciously leaned against her, closing his eyes. She lifted her eyes heavenward and started praying for his life again, stroking his smooth cheek with one finger. Mrs. Lovett had always been a self-serving person, didn't usually depend on anyone else for help. Mostly because no one had ever asked. For some reason, though, she knew that she would be lost without him. Naïve and stupidly romantic, but it was true. And she couldn't change back now, couldn't force herself to survive without her soul.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. T. We'll find 'em, I promise," she whispered to him.

The sky grew lighter and the ship sailed on in silence. In the distance, another ship missing a mast lay motionless in the water.


	7. Numb

Ta-da! Another chapter. For all of you that were worried Sweeney was getting a little soft (thanks to his poor head wound), you'll probably like this. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter Seven: **Numb**

* * *

Wrapped in blankets, Nellie Lovett and Sweeney Todd watched as the remainder of the crew committed the captain to the sea, bowing their heads respectfully as the body slid into the water, wrapped in a hammock. The splash seemed to go on forever. There were a couple of other dead man, but they were let go with even less fanfare than the captain. Before the ripples had even died out, the first mate was already barking out orders. The sailors began to salvage the wood and brought out extra sails from the hold. The excessive noise drove a hole through Mrs. Lovett's sleep-deprived brain, and she felt as though she was the one lifting heavy wood and cleaning up the damage done by the horrible storm. 

Mr. T hadn't said a word from the time that the first mate woke them up, apologizing for what they had gone through and not-so-subtly urging them to stay out of the way. Mrs. Lovett thanked the Lord for that, but Sweeney had frowned, his hand automatically going to his belt. He didn't like the man's pushy attitude. Come to think of it, he was pretty unshaven as well… she had stopped him in time, though, and the first mate had walked away unscathed.

Now, Mrs. Lovett glanced at him, her eyes following the path of his fingers searching for the razor for the second time. She noticed that he would touch it, just for comfort. Comfort like nothing else could give him – the assurance that he was always on top of a situation. Her eyes widened as she realized that she still had it from before, hidden in a pocket. She had just forgotten to give it back to him, and it had seemed like such a small thing at the time, compared to pleading for someone's life. She was still worried about him: his cough hadn't gone away, and the wound had still not been properly cared for. Her arm was of no consequence; she figured it would heal itself after time.

"Ah, Mr.T…"

"A minute," he said distractedly, actively searching for the blade now. She dipped her hand in her pocket, fully intending to hand the blade over to him without another word. Something held her back. Fear, or maybe twisted enjoyment of having the upper hand for once. Or maybe even curiosity as to what he would do. She followed him back to the small room and watched as he took the box out and checked for all the razors. Just as he suspected, one was missing.

"Where _is_ it, where…"

"Mr. Todd, I've got-"

He rounded on her impatiently. "_What _do you want, Mrs. Lovett?"

Nellie swallowed hard. Now it was just fear propelling her backwards, moving slowly away from him as she brought the razor out. She kept backing up as he stepped lightly towards her, his eyes set on the blade with a strange glint. His gaze shifted from the blade to her face, and there was no muddled confusion left in his black eyes. Only comprehension, direct and piercing as a knife. She talked quickly, tripping over her words.

"I only used it t' cut the rope, an' I was worried about you, and silly me 'ad forgotten all about it until right now when you was lookin' for it, and I didn't mean any harm at all, Mr. T, none at all."

He stopped right in front of her, using his height advantage to keep her pressed against the damp wood. He reached out and covered the hand holding the razor, his hand enveloping hers. Their eyes locked, Sweeney brought it up to her neck and pressed the blade against her pale skin. Her breath came faster as a drop of red appeared, quivering on the edge of the reflective silver surface. The demon barber smiled.

"Wanted to keep my friend?" his voice was dark velvet, low and dangerous.

"I swear I was goin' to give it right back. You know I'd never take anything away from you, not after wot we've been through…"

He moved the razor up to her cheek, leaning close and kissing the side of her neck. Her hand shook within his. "Would you like your own, my pet?" he murmured against her skin. Nellie was afraid to shake her head no. Her lips moved but no sound escaped.

"What was that you said?"

"N-no, Mr. Todd."

"Good," he said, and pressed his lips against hers as he drew a thin line down her cheek with the knife, bright scarlet against her pallid complexion. She didn't struggle against him, only went limp and allowed him to support her with his other arm. She never had the upper hand against him, and never would. She was allowed to provide a distraction, a dubious comfort, and sometimes a plan of action to his spur-of-the-moment ideas, but she was replaceable.

He drew back, taking the razor with him and away from her body. She barely had time to breathe before his hands were on her face again, the pad of his thumb tenderly moving across the shallow cut, smearing the blood across her cheek as if he was finger-painting. It seemed to calm him down, and she relaxed a bit.

"You're rather pretty this way, Mrs. Lovett," he announced.

She smiled weakly, twining her good arm around his neck. She thought that she had probably never looked worse in her entire life. "I always thought you was beautiful yourself, Mr. T." Mrs. Lovett reached up to kiss him, but he resisted, gripping her chin harshly and keeping her face a couple of inches from his. She closed her eyes and held her breath. His hands softened after a moment, and she opened her eyes just as he hesitantly kissed her forehead.

He let go of her immediately and she almost fell down. The absence of his body so close to hers made her shiver and pull the blanket still haphazardly wrapped around her shoulders closer. Mr. Todd had walked away from her, one hand covering his face. Nellie heard him breathe in deeply and took a foolish step towards him.

"Leave me," he growled.

"But Mr. T…"

He turned around menacingly, razor in hand. "I said-"

A loud shout from above rendered them both silent, listening. It seemed as if there was some commotion, and Mrs. Lovett started for the door to see what it was all about. She was stopped with a hand on her arm. Sweeney gestured towards her cheek. She brought her fingers up to the cut in consternation, rubbing at some of the blood around it with a moistened finger.

"'S it gone now?"

"Good enough."

She followed him out the door and onto the deck at a respectable distance. Nellie looked curiously at the sailors, pointing and shouting into the fog. Something about a ship ahead…She gasped in understanding and grasped Mr. T's arm, forgetting about his current mood.

"It's them!"

He stared straight ahead like he hadn't heard, but she could tell that his eyes were already searching in the gloom for a shape, anything. She spoke softly this time, whispering in his ear, "Over there, Mr. Todd, see it?"

He nodded, a gesture so slight that only she would really recognize it as a response. The couple stared at the motionless bulk of the ship that the sailors were pulling up next to. The mast had fallen and the ship was half under-water. The only signs of life were a couple of men shouting and waving from the deck, looking eager to leave it as soon as possible. No feminine figures were among them, and Mrs. Lovett began to think that maybe it wasn't the right ship. Still…

"Poor buggers," she said sadly.

Mr. Todd's lips hardly moved. "We were on the edge of the storm; they got stuck in the middle." The glance he threw her was anguished. "If she isn't…I never should've…"

"Don't blame yourself, love. We'll go aboard and 'ave a look-see."

The cut on her cheek began to sting as the dampness set in, and she winced and brought her hand to her cheek to shield it. She glanced at his stone-cold profile to see if he noticed. He hadn't. She sighed and pushed her way through the men standing and lowering boats into the water. They gaped at her, a small figure dwarfed by the rest of them. She stood with her hand on her hip, Mr. Todd behind her.

"If you gentleman would be so kind, there are people I need to see over there. Excuse us, there's a lad…"

And she pushed aside two strapping young men, sat down in their place, and patted the seat next to her for Sweeney. "Come 'ere, Mr. T. Your girl'll be there, right as rain." The men parted for him in fear, and he sat down stiffly. Someone finally objected, weakly. "You can't do tha'…"

Nellie gave the man a withering glare. With a smirk, she looked at the brooding man behind her theatrically, looked back at the rest of them. In a mock-whisper: "You wouldn't want 'im to lose his temper. Not that one. Dangerous, 'e is. I wouldn't stop 'im, not for more'n a pound."

Frightened, the man stepped back. Sweeney stared straight ahead, looking just as dangerous as Mrs. Lovett said he was. He was annoyed, but couldn't help admiring her sense of self-preservation. _The woman co__uld talk herself out of a hanging, _he thought amusedly. He didn't look at her as she sat back down beside him with a righteous humph. Shocked, the sailors did what she said and lowered the dinghy into the water with a splash. They paddled their way across the narrow pathway with shouts and laughter following them. Mr. T pulled alongside the ruined ship and wordlessly helped Nellie up the side. She let go of his hand a little too late, as always. He made her bleed, he hurt her in more ways than one, and still she wouldn't let go. He supposed he should be grateful for her help, but he couldn't really feel anything.

He felt himself being pulled along, past begging hands and voices. Her determined voice broke through the haze; "Oy, shove off! They're comin' back for you, I said."

More faces. None had golden hair like his daughter; none of them had the small white hands of a young girl. None of them had the features of an angel. Sweeney felt pressure on his hand and looked up to see Mrs. Lovett watching him with a sympathetic look on her face. He shook her off – he didn't want sympathy, didn't want her pity. He wanted his Johanna. If he was to be denied his wife…

"Let's go down 'ere, love, maybe we'll see something." They went down a couple stairs and looked around. The walls had collapsed upon themselves in some places, and others the wood was just splintered. The entire place gave Mrs. Lovett the chills, the desolation and the queer silence that pervaded the air. Occasionally there were squeals and creaks that made her jump. _There's no one here_, she wanted to say, _they're not here._ But Mr. Todd looked so lost compared to the aggressiveness he had displayed before. It reminded her of the first time he stepped into the attic, as if millions of bloodthirsty ghosts were going to attack him with the very memories he dreaded, and suck him dry. She hated and loved that look – loved that it made him so vulnerable, hated herself for being so hopeless.

Shaking off her thoughts, she began walking carefully, noticing a door for the first time. It was pushed outward as if something had put a lot of force on it. She glimpsed Mr. T still standing at the base of the stairs, looking at the destruction. "Quick, Mr. T, I think I found somethin'." He hurried to where she was standing, pushing her hand aside. He scrutinized the door, turning his head to find the best way to approach it.

"If you just give it a hard yank…" she planted her foot on the bottom of the wall and pulled out on the door, hard. It didn't budge. She stepped back as he jiggled the razor blade in the lock, then kicked the door hard and yanked. It opened a couple of inches, and she peered in first. "Can't see a thing," she muttered. Somehow, he got his shoulder wedged in the opening, putting all his weight on the door. Something cracked, and Nellie couldn't tell if it was the door or his shoulder.

"Oh, be careful," she couldn't help but say.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Sweeney fell back on the wall, breathing heavily and coughing. His jacket had taken the worst of the scratches. Slowly, as if she couldn't bear to see it, she peeked inside the room. Her vision was blocked by a large chest, and she had to push it away from her with all her strength. _There._ A flash of golden curls.

"Mr. Todd!"

He was up again, entering the room and kneeling at the side of an unconscious Johanna, her hair spread out on the soaked floor. He gathered it in his hands, and Mrs. Lovett placed the girl's head and shoulders on her lap.

"Johanna…wake up, my darling …" Sweeney crooned to his daughter. Mrs. Lovett held back a bit of foolish jealousy at his tone. As if nothing else mattered in the world. It was how he would talk to Lucy when he thought no one else was listening. Imagine, being jealous of the man's daughter!

Johanna stirred, and Nellie picked up the girls bloody hand from the floor. One of her little nails had been torn out, leaving only the poor, defenseless looking nail bed. She winced.

"Antony…where are you…," the girl wailed in her delirium. She opened her eyes wider and focused in on Mr. T's face. She recoiled, pushing at his shoulders. "No, not you! Not you _again_! Where is Antony?" Johanna demanded, becoming restless. Mrs. Lovett had to hold her shoulders down to keep her from getting up. She looked across the girl's writhing body to Mr. T's devastated expression.

"Love…why don' you go see if you can scare up Anthony. Might help a little," she added, yearning to reach out and smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead. He nodded, eyes closed. In one motion, he got up and stalked away, hands clenched at his sides.

_Lord help us_, she thought, trying to calm Johanna's hysterics.

Mr. T pounded up the stairs, calling the sailor's name roughly. "Anthony! "

No answer. "Come on, boy," he growled, stopping at the wreckage on deck. He had searched below deck, without any luck. If he found the boy alive, it was likely that he wouldn't be in that state for long. The sailors from their own ship had already boarded, and were helping the other men off, putting them into boats and rowing back over. Sweeney watched, his frenzied movements calmed for a minute. What if they left without him? He was just about to call back over when he noticed something buried underneath the wreckage on deck. He frowned, stepped closer.

A hand was sticking out from underneath a broken piece of timber.


	8. Death's Companion

Don't hate me. I have a plan...I think. I always like to believe I have things under control, but who knows?

Chapter Eight: **Death's Companion**

* * *

Sweeney crouched down to examine the scene closer, forgetting all about the other ship. He delicately lifted the plank off, his face showing no emotion as the pain in his shoulder grew larger. The hand was connected to an outstretched arm, clothed in a denim jacket. He leaned forward and braced himself as he began to lift some of the bigger pieces of wood, not thinking to call out to anyone for help. He studiously kept from thinking about his daughter, in pain and rejecting him. Calling out for someone else…

He uncovered the boy's face at last, grimacing at the bruised and still innocent countenance of Anthony Hope. Mr. Todd shook the boy's arm lightly, and the head only turned to the side. He gingerly put two fingers on Anthony's neck, checking for a pulse. The same pulse that forced blood to gush out from that exact point on the throat. It was there, but very faint.

Sweeney sat back, his face drawn. Would it be too…obvious to slit the boy's neck? It would solve so many problems, and Johanna would learn to depend on only him. She didn't need anyone else except him. And suppose Anthony didn't survive after all? The whole process would just be so upsetting and messy and unhelpful. And quite unnecessary.

_No,_ he decided. Someone would notice his blood-stained sleeves. Mrs. Lovett, surely. And she would wonder. That would lead to trouble, complications that didn't need to enter the equation. His mind made up, he began to drag the boy by his arms. Sudden pain, harsh and unyielding, cut through his body and he bent in half, coughing. Eyeing the boy, he left him there on the deck and stumbled down the stairs to the fevered cries of his daughter and the soothing tones of his accomplice.

"Shh, darlin'…Nothing's gonna harm you…"

He leaned against the doorframe, head pounding. "Mrs. Lovett," he rasped, " 'e's on deck. Unconscious."

She rose, laying Johanna back on the floor. "Unconscious like you'll be in a couple of seconds. You stay 'ere, and I'll go get 'im."

"Your arm. Won't be very helpful."

She thought for a moment, undecided. "We'll bring Johanna up. Maybe someone'll take pity."

He snorted in derision, but went to his daughter's side and very gently lifted her up in his arms. Johanna didn't fight, only started to cry weakly. Mrs. Lovett saw pain flash across his face, and she laid a hand on his arm.

"Mr. T…"

Sweeney looked at the hand draped inconspicuously over his arm, but didn't glance up to look at her face. She lifted her hand off and stared at the ground, cursing herself silently. When would she ever learn..? He started up the stairs and Nellie followed him closely, stubbornly refusing to give up. He _would _accept her help. She wouldn't give him any other choice. He swayed a bit going up the stairs (her Mr. Barker had never been a big man, not like poor Albert), but for the most part seemed alright.

They finally got on deck, and Mrs. Lovett gasped to see Anthony's bruised and battered face. Johanna was now silent and unmoving, but her father still turned her face away from the sight. The Seahawk hadn't left yet, and there was even a boat still anchored next to the remains of the ship they were on.

Nellie knelt close to the boy, smoothed his hair away from his face. He reminded her of Toby, only a little bit older. Innocents, these…seeing the cruelty of the world and still believing in love and happiness and a better life. They deserved better, and received nothing.

"Still alive, is he?"

She nodded, unable to talk around the lump in her throat. "I think so."

"Go into the boat and wait there. Take Johanna with you," he instructed.

Mrs. Lovett opened her eyes wide. She wouldn't let it happen again, wouldn't have another innocent's blood on her hands. Not after the last one. "You're gonna kill 'im? That poor boy wot done nothin' but-"

"Hush, woman!"

Johanna stirred in his arms, her lips moving rapidly. They stared at each other over Anthony's unmoving body, at an impasse. Sweeney's dark gaze pierced her through, and she had no doubt that he was able to read all of her thoughts, everything she'd ever done wrong. Foolishly, she started to think of everything _but _a certain beggar woman who was certainly still out there somewhere, the wife of one Mr. Benjamin Barker. When he opened his mouth to speak, she flinched, certain that he was going to condemn her. Her arms clasped about her frame, she waited for the death sentence.

"Mrs. Lovett," his voice was deceptively soft, "think abou' it. We can go somewhere just like you imagined. Johanna'll live with us, no trouble at all. If you can just do this _one thing_," his voice got deeper, harsher, "for me, and keep quiet. Can you do that, my love?"

The words were insidiously sweet and obviously a trap, yet she couldn't help falling for the fantasy, that perfect and beautifully flawed life which had always seemed so far away. It crawled into the deepest crevasses of her mind like poison (arsenic, from the apothecary around the corner) and skillfully dismantled her sense of reality. Her dream, for the price of a young boy's life.

He didn't want to kill her. It would be like killing a little fox trapped within the confines of a steel trap. Unable to save itself, shot in cold blood. He couldn't do it. Not here, not with his daughter warm in his arms. His powers of persuasion were rusty, but he knew what she wanted. And he knew that he could probably give it to her. A part of him would whisper that she'd outlived her usefulness, overstayed her welcome, as it were. For all her street smarts and common sense, Nellie Lovett was human and oh-so-transparent, when he actually chose to see. But still, he didn't want to kill her.

It felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes. A loud noise from the Seahawk forced them back into reality, and Mrs. Lovett stepped forward with her arms held out. She closed her eyes and nodded, refusing to look at Anthony. Mr. Todd smiled, and helped Johanna stand upright. The dazed girl leaned on Mrs. Lovett who supported her, descended into the boat with Nellie's whispered encouragement.

Once he was sure they were in the boat, he knelt down again and looked at the boy. He drew his razor out, placing it in the hollow of Anthony's throat. Anthony's bleary eyes shot open and gazed at Sweeney, grasped his coat with a limp hand. The barber's hand jumped in shock, only nicking the skin lightly. The helpless boy didn't say anything, only stared. If he would've talked, Sweeney would have pulled the blade across his throat without thinking. But for some reason, that gaze froze him, made him unsure. Finally Anthony's eyes closed, but Mr. T was still unable to kill him.

What was this horror? Something had been lost. His hand tightened on the blade, started to shake. He realized he wasn't breathing, hadn't been breathing. Slowly he backed away, drawing breath in one loud gasp.

"Mr. T, we 'ave to go!"

He whipped his head around to look back at Anthony, who was now lying peacefully on the deck. He wouldn't survive the night. Light-footed, Sweeney climbed down the stairs and into the boat, taking up the oars. They rowed across in silence. The crew grudgingly helped them back on the ship, although none of them gave Sweeney a hand up. Johanna was duly covered with a warm blanket and handed some hot tea. She sat at what remained of the rickety wooden table and stared straight ahead with glassy, unseeing eyes. Mrs. Lovett shivered and crossed herself – the girl looked like she belonged in Bedlam, what with that wet hair in her ghostly face, and dark circles that almost matched her fathers.

Mr. Todd wouldn't let her out of his sight, and insisted that Mrs. Lovett find another blanket. The older woman could already tell that she would hate the daughter almost as much as she had hated the mother. She grumbled as she went to fetch the blanket, and dumped it unceremoniously onto Johanna's shoulders with one hand. Mr. Todd's attention flickered from the girl for a moment, and he pulled Nellie towards him by the wrist.

"You are ever so helpful, Mrs. Lovett," he whispered into her ear. She couldn't help but allow a brief smile to flash across her face.

"D'you mean it? We can go anywhere I want?"

"Anywhere and everywhere," he confirmed. "As long as," he stroked her arm slowly, his eyes burning into hers, "you don' say a thing to her."

Mrs. Lovett nodded vigorously, then leaned forward and kissed him. She felt the upward curve of his lips as he smiled dangerously under her touch.

"Anythin' you say, love. Won't get naught from me," she said against his mouth. At that moment, to Nellie's great dismay, Johanna reached out a searching arm, moaning like a mute child. Sweeney broke away from her hold immediately, going to the distraught girl (child, really) and holding her hand. He stroked her bedraggled hair gently, and enfolded her in his arms. She cried noiselessly, and Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes. Was shedding tears all that the little nymph could do?

"I'm sorry, sir," she sobbed, "I shan't sing anymore, I promise."

And Mr. Todd, the man who had murdered countless Englishman with nary a glance, held the golden-haired child closer and hummed sweetly. Mrs. Lovett had to look away, pursed her lips. So now he was happy. But what about her? Would she always be upstaged by this princess, such a strong reminder of her mother?

"I'm goin' up to see wot's happening."

He nodded absently, tracing the line of Johanna's cheek with a long finger. "And she was beautiful…"

Nellie rushed onto the deck, eliciting startled glances from the sailors. She stood like a warrior queen, challenging them with arms akimbo. So _angry_, she was…

"Where's the first mate?"

One crew-member pointed to the slightly destroyed captain's cabin, and she marched over and knocked on the door purposefully. The first-mate opened the door, blearily rubbing his eyes. "Bloody 'ell, woman…"

She lifted her skirts and invited herself in, nose in the air. She had slept with the demon barber of Fleet Street himself, and she wasn't afraid of anything. "I was just wonderin', sir, where we was headed to?"

He shut the door behind her, circling around her back. He wouldn't dare try anything with her – the man she was with was enough incentive to keep all the men far away. He decided to answer her question honestly, plainly.

"We're headin' back to London, Mrs.…" He looked at her expectantly.

"Todd," she filled in curtly, trying to push down the bubble of hope that had blossomed inside of her chest at the fake name. "And why are we goin' back there?"

"Supplies and cargo was all lost, the captain was lost, an' I don't want t' risk the ship, with the condition she's in." He shook his head sadly. "We've been blown off course, an' there are the sailors need to be dropped off 'cause I ain't payin' them extra."

Nellie's eyes narrowed. "That's the solid truth, then?"

He put his hand over his heart. "Swear on me mother's grave."

She left inconspicuously, much quieter than when she came in. "Thank you, sir," she nodded her head to him, then made her way back onto the deck. Her stomach suddenly complained of lack of food, and she groaned. Of all the bloody things to worry about. But when was it the last they had eaten? Two days, was it? It brought back memories of the sharp hunger-pangs resulting from days gone without proper sustenance. What she would have given to catch one of those kitties then…

She went into the galley, surveyed the mess around her for a biscuit or something. She found a dented tin, and snatched it up, humming to herself. She wrenched the lid open (at least the bloody thing kept water out) and smiled when she saw the hardtack inside. Mrs. Lovett put the biscuits into the folds of her skirt and filled up the tin with the little untainted water they had.

"Mr. T, I got us some…" she trailed off as the sight of that disheveled, raven-haired head bent protectively over the light yellow head, both of them fast asleep. She sighed and slid to the floor against the wall, placing the food and water beside her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. She would wake him up in a little while to eat. Maybe if she could get Johanna to eat…before she knew it, the gentle rocking of the ship had lulled her into slumber and her thoughts faded into darkness.


	9. Scars

When Mrs. Lovett awoke, the tin containing the water had been mostly drained, leaving some for her. She looked around and Mr. Todd had disappeared from the tiny room. Johanna was wrapped in blankets and placed on the half-broken cot, silent as the dead. Her blue eyes would flutter open at intervals, and Nellie amused herself by counting how many seconds were in between each eye flutter. The girl would be alright once they reached London again, after all. No sense worrying about it now. When watching Johanna's face grew boring, she tried to rouse herself enough to go on deck and find Mr. Todd. Unfortunately, her limbs seemed to have grown thicker and larger, her body pushed to the floor by a force greater than gravity.

She contented herself with eating a stale biscuit from her pocket and drinking what was left of the water. The foul aftertaste stayed in her mouth, and she swallowed repeatedly. Sighing, she scrutinized her arm, still in its makeshift sling. She was just about to try and move it around when she heard some sort of commotion above her head. Struggling to push herself up, Nellie gasped as Sweeney appeared suddenly in the doorway. Her body still felt like lead, even as she pushed herself to move. _Come on, old girl, can't be seen like this in front of '__im__…_

He went first to Johanna, checking her pulse with a clinical hand, then laying a hand on her forehead affectionately. Mrs. Lovett tilted her head back on the wall behind her, closing her eyes. She heard Johanna ask, feebly, where she was. The rumble of Mr. T's voice came as if in a dream, and the poor woman let a sigh escape her lips. Everything had gone to pot because of that dreadful storm. There was no strolling on deck in the sunshine like she had imagined. Unrealistic of her it might have been, but she couldn't help what she dreamed. And now having to go back to the gloomy London docks, with that disquieting, silent threat hanging above all of their heads. Her past sins come back to haunt her…

"Mrs. Lovett?"

She opened her eyes and clutched at her heart in surprise. His face was close, very close.

"So…back to London it is, then?" she managed feebly.

He nodded. "Not far now."

Nellie noticed that there was a white bandage peeking underneath the tangles of his hair. Good, he had taken care of himself. The man had no great love for self-preservation.

She closed her eyes again. "Well, Mr. T, everythin' worked out well for you, like I said it would. You 'ave your daughter, safe an' sound. Lucky thing I didn't close the shop, ain't it?" She tried to make a gesture with her hand and winced when she felt a twinge of pain.

"Yes." Sweeney answered simply. "You were right."

She blew her hair away from her face, eyes popping open. "Wot'd you just say?"

He half-smiled, watching her amazement grow. "You were right," he repeated. She exhaled and settled back, her posture becoming less dejected.

"Thank you, then, Mr. Todd." For once, the talkative baker was lost for words.

"You're welcome."

She narrowed her eyes at this new bit, unable to believe the words were coming out of his mouth. "Are you alright, dear? 'Aven't been finishing off the rum?"

He didn't answer her question, his gaze focused on her hand. "Are those biscuits?"

She nodded, wordlessly offering him one. He took it and bit down hard, grimacing.

"Almos' as good as my pies, ay?"

He started to chew gingerly, then turned to the side and spit it out. He started to cough again, and she lurched forward to help him. He waved her away, clearing his throat. "How'd you eat that rubbish?"

Mrs. Lovett shrugged. "Never ate much anyway. Didn't 'ave enough, wot with Albert devouring everything in the house and the prices."

They fell silent, contemplating everything that had happened. Sweeney sat down on the floor next to her, his restless hands unmoving for once. She cast sidelong looks at him, noticing how tired he looked. Not just that they hadn't gotten any sleep, but tired down to the bone. The weariness of a century, she thought. They listened to the creaking of the ship and the noises Johanna made as she slept, until Nell couldn't take it.

"Mr. T, where'd you get those…those scars on your back? Was it from…" she wished she could take her question back the second after she said it.

"Prison, yes." His tone was bitter. "And those stories are best left unsaid."

" 'S only me, love, an' I'm no kind of society lady."

Mr. Todd turned his head and looked at her straight on. "20 lashes ev'ry day for a week, 's wot I got. Didn't scrub the floor to their liking. Sometimes it took days t' break a man, sometimes months. But it always happened in the end. "

She didn't dare ask who "they" was. Thinking of that sensitive barber, the way he was back then, forced to use those beautiful hands to scrub floors and worse…broke her heart, it did. She wanted to embrace him, to feel his heart beating and reassure herself that he was alive and with her. But looking at him, she knew that it wasn't the time, nor the place. He was still looking at her, his eyes strangely direct.

"That'll leave a scar," he pointed at her cheek.

"Oh," she remembered, bringing her fingertips to the cut on her face. To her dismay, it had started to bleed again, blood weakly oozing from the shallow wound. She licked her thumb and started to rub, ignoring the lingering pain.

"No," he said, and removed her hand. He rested his rough fingers against her skin, and she couldn't help but lean into his hand like a cat would. Sweeney chuckled (albeit a little darkly) and watched her in amusement, half-expecting her to start purring. He started to move his thumb against her jawbone, and she nestled further into his caress, her eyes fluttering. It was amazing to him, the power he had over this woman. It wasn't right, but he took advantage of it anyway. Now that the Judge was dead and Johanna safe, maybe…he found himself thinking of her fondly, like an old shirt he was loathe to throw away. Only she was a bit more attractive and responsive than an old shirt. He found, with a start, that he could barely remember her first name. It surprised him, the fact that he cared at all.

"Mrs. Lovett."

"Hmm?" she sighed, clearing her head as he removed his hand from her face.

"Your Christian name?"

She looked at him oddly. "Nellie. Nell, my father used to call me."

Sweeney nodded, leaning one arm across his knees. He preferred Mrs. Lovett, for some odd reason. Just as Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth to say something, there was another shout from above.

"Land!" they heard faintly.

Nellie looked at the pale man sitting beside her, an ironic smile on her delicate features.

"Right back where we started, right love?"

He made some sort of noise that she took as agreement and stood, lurching a bit as footsteps scurried above their heads. Her keen eyes found him to be standing awkwardly, and she struggled to get up with one good arm. He offered his hand, and she just stared at him intently.

"Wot else is wrong with you, Mr. T?"

He raised one shoulder in a shrug. "One of my ribs. Broke, I think."

"You're a walkin' disaster. Did you bind it up, at least?"

He nodded. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Not well, I s'pose."

"Did your arm well enough, didn't I?" he retorted.

Still, she ignored his hand. She knew it would hurt him something fierce if she allowed him to pull her up. Sweeney turned away, affronted. "Get yourself up, then."

Nellie huffed, but managed to stand, leaning against the wall. She crossed her arms obstinately. "Let me see."

He stared at her as if she was absolutely loony. "No," he said blankly.

"Y'know, Mr. Todd, keepin' all these secrets is mighty hard. I might just…slip…one day," she said, meaningfully. She knew she walked a thin line, but felt confident that he still needed her, somehow.

He growled and threw off his jacket, started unbuttoning his vest with some amount of difficulty. Mrs. Lovett smiled in triumph, though she cursed her useless arm to all the circles of hell. His lean but strong frame was soon bared to the air, and Sweeney scowled in annoyance as she took her time examining the messy white bandages wrapped around his ribs, their color almost matching the marble hue of his skin. A great purple bruise bloomed under the cloth, reaching beyond the edges of the cloth. She winced and reached out a hand, meaning to touch him. She drew back at the last moment, uncharacteristically shy.

"Bloody satisfied?"

"It'll do," she said critically, still appraising his chest. As if she could do anything about it. He turned away from her and slipped his shirt back over his head, the fine line of his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth together. He stalked out of the room with his bag, instructing Mrs. Lovett to wake Johanna while he went to find out when they were to reach the docks. She looked after him sullenly, frustrated with his sudden mood changes.

She shook Johanna's shoulder lightly, brushing her hair out of her pale face. Maybe she could find some affection for the girl. Deep down inside, Nellie knew she needed something if she was to survive. Another one unfit for the harsh reality of life.

"Time to go, dearie."

Zombie-like, Johanna stood up unsteadily. She took Mrs. Lovett's outstretched hand like a child, her lips firmly closed. Her palms were hot and sticky, a sign of the fever. Mrs. Lovett led her onto the deck, squinting to find a solitary man with matted black hair amongst the rest of the sailors and survivors. She spooked and jumped back when he appeared as out of nowhere behind them.

"Heav'ns, Mr. T, don't jump out at me like that. Do you 'ave our bags?"

He nodded and deposited her small canvas bag at her feet, his expression as pleasant as ever. Nellie sighed as she stood between the two silent beings and tried not to talk just to fill the silence. They watched the gloomy London docks materialize, and the sight filled them with despair.


	10. Lullaby

So, um...I'm alive! And I really, really want to finish this story, despite college and moving in and disrupting my entire life. So this chapter's a bit of a filler, just so I can get my head back in the right mindset again. Please, please tell me if you think it's worth continuing... reviews mean a lot, as you all probably know by now.

Ch. 10: Lullaby

"Sit down, sit down, Mr. T. Look, Johanna's on the couch, comfy cozy."

Sweeney looked uncertainly at the overstuffed chair that Mrs. Lovett was offering him, preferring to sit beside his daughter instead. The girl was still burning up with fever, and Mrs. Lovett had put hot-water bottles all around her to try and sweat it out. They had taken the roundabout way to avoid the late Judge Turpin's house which was surrounded by the entire London police force. The sudden disappearance of such an upstanding citizen had thrown the upper-class citizens into an uproar, while the lower-class sniggered behind closed doors and said that he had what was coming to him. They toasted the man brave enough to finish him off, not noticing the sudden absence of the silent barber and his pie-making companion. The constable was all over the place, trying to find at least the body of Judge Turpin. No one would believe that it had smoldered into ashes at the bottom of Mrs. Lovett's bake oven.

Well, maybe some would. But none were brave enough to say it.

The teapot whistled merrily as Mrs. Lovett bustled into the dark kitchen and out again, holding a tray of pastries as well as meat pies for the both of them. The tea she carried in her other hand, dangling out of the sling. She set the tray of food on the table and moved to the still-standing Mr. Todd. She nodded towards Johanna.

"Help me get this down 'er throat. Might help with the fever."

He followed her, knelt beside the couch. They both looked at the restless girl for a moment, then Nellie seemed to snap back into reality. "Prop her up, if you please."

He did so, disregarding the pain that radiated throughout his body. Johanna seemed to stir to life slightly, opening her eyes and groaning. Mrs. Lovett spooned warm tea and honey into her mouth, watching the throat contract to make sure she swallowed it. She grew suddenly aware of Mr. T's head near her own, watching intently. She turned to him, held out the spoon.

"You want t' try, love?"

He took the spoon and dipped it into the mug, holding it steady as Mrs. Lovett tipped Johanna's head back as he put the liquid in her mouth. Johanna swallowed and Nell smiled genuinely. "You did it, Mr. Todd. I'll be right back, you keep doin' just that."

She rose carefully, leaving the barber to carefully make sure that Johanna swallowed every drop of tea. She went into the kitchen, sweeping back the curtains and squinting through the dusty window. Her eyes searched the streets, and she grimaced as she saw the same beggar woman wandering the street across from her shop. Nellie supposed it was too much to hope for, that the one threat to her happiness couldn't just get shipped off to Bedlam again or die or something equally as unpleasant. She couldn't really say what made her hate the crazy woman so much – the simple fact that she had been the sole recipient of Benjamin Barker's love couldn't be all of it, surely. One way or the other, Lucy was going to have to be dealt with.

And maybe once they nursed Johanna back to health, she could convince Mr. Todd to move to the seaside. After all, there was nothing for them here anymore. No supplies for her pies (not anymore, at least), and no customers equaled no money. And they sorely needed money, seeing as they had stretched a bit for the ship.

She let the drapes fall back and wiped her dirty hand on her skirts. When she reentered the living room, Sweeney Todd had the slightest of smiles on his face, and the cup was empty. He sat back on his heels as she bent over to feel the girl's forehead.

"We'll have t' see wha' happens." Mrs. Lovett paused, tapped her finger on her chin. "Might draw up a hot bath for her later. And for me," she added, with a wry smile.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Lovett," said Sweeney, one arm unconsciously holding his torso.

"Ooh, Mr. T, I'd completely forgot. Lie down," she instructed, looking around the room for somewhere for him to sit. "Hmm. Just a minute," and she rushed back into the kitchen. Sweeney sighed and sat on the ottoman, his hands dangling between his knees like two trapped birds. She came back with a small glass filled with amber liquid. She held it out to him with an encouraging smile, making sure he held it firmly before she dropped her hand.

"Here you go, Mr. Todd. This'll help a bit."

He took the glass and didn't look at her. He swirled the contents of the glass, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Only a little bit of rum."

He swallowed without hesitation, tipping his head back to finish it off. Mrs. Lovett smiled happily, taking a little sip of her own. Almost at once, a faint blush spread through his death-like countenance, making him seem less like a ghoul and more like a tired, heart-broken man. And any self-respecting heart-broken man, in Nellie's book, wouldn't mind a distraction.

She remembered back when he was Mr. Barker, how affectionate he was with his darling wife; always holding her hand, kissing her shoulder, embracing her as she squealed to let go, she was holding the baby. What had happened to him destroyed that man. Which is why he needed her - even if he didn't know it yet - to put him back together. And truth be told, she had always found the caring, open Benjamin a little naïve. Beautiful, but too trusting.

Now…she looked over her shoulder at him sitting on the chair, slouching just a little, twirling the empty glass between barber's hands that were still delicate and fine beneath all the deaths they had wrought. Well, now he was a man that she could relate too, maybe.

She approached him from her spot near the fireplace, and he held out the good-sized , empty glass to her. Mrs. Lovett took it without a word, refilled it. He downed the second one almost as quickly as the first. She figured that would do him in for a while; he wasn't the big man that her Albert was.

"Mr. T?"

" 'M alright," he muttered, grimacing. He leaned his head back on the chair and closed his eyes. For a second, the deep, almost purple skin beneath his lashes was disguised, and he almost looked like the young man he used to be.

She worked at the tense knots in his shoulders and neck that only seemed to give a little underneath her fingers. She decided that using just one hand wasn't working, and brought the other closer. Her arm felt better, anyway.

"Mr. T, Mr. T…we're going to leave this all behind, my love. I'd make you happy if you let me, I would."

He groaned and settled further into her hands, his heavy head almost resting on her shoulder. Her eyes brightened and she crooned to him like a high-strung horse. "That's right, relax…"

"Is Johanna up?" he muttered, opening one eye and looking back at her.

"Not yet, love. How's your ribs feelin'?"

He shifted and groaned. "Like a man just shoved a knife between 'em and then twisted."

She narrowed her eyes in concern and moved to the front of the chair, staring at his torso with her tongue between her teeth in concentration. She leaned towards him. "If you'd jus' let me-"

"No," was the flat answer. She huffed and went to check on Johanna. The girl's fever had gone down, just a little. She lingered there, watching her face, noting the breaths that went in and out, in and out.

"Mrs. Lovett." It was a statement, not a question. Nellie went to sit down on the ottoman next to him, and was about to answer despondently when he suddenly reached forward and held her face gently with his fingertips. She froze, afraid to exhale. "Aye," she breathed. He studied her face, obviously seeing double, or perhaps triple. He grabbed her hand suddenly and yanked her up, standing unsteadily on his own feet.

"Mrs. Lovett, I have a strange premonition," he began.

"Do you really?" She allowed herself to be dragged to the cellar door, and she opened it herself. He hurried down the steps, peering into the blackness of the empty basement.

"Wot in heaven's name are you doing?"

"Oh," he muttered, "thought someone was there. Someone else. Couldn't have been. Silly of me…saw her face, that I did, Mrs. Lovett, that I did…"

He stood back as she stared at him in amazement. The basement was dark, seeing as the boiler hadn't been lit in days. Strange silhouettes rose out of the gloom, and Mrs. Lovett shivered at the strange environment she had created. She warned herself against falling asleep tonight. She dared not look at the floor where the judge had lain. It had taken her forever to wash the blood out that night.

"So, my pet, what is it you do down here? Or did. Whichever you prefer." Todd waved vaguely around at the silent room, only a couple of moldy pies sitting on the shelves were there was once many.

"I dunno." She shrugged, uncomfortable. It was hard enough not to think while she was cutting up limbs and slicing meat from leg-bones. Now this half-crazy man (oh, but how much she loved him!) wanted her to _talk _about it. "Well, I dragged 'em over there before they stiffened up, put the meat in th' grinder," and she pointed to the various machines," burned the rest of the body I didn't use in the furnace, and made the pies. Put the finished pies in the oven, and voilá."

He stared at her, eyebrows raised. "You are a bloody wonder, 's what you are. Don't know wot I'd do without you. Where should we go next?"

She closed her eyes briefly at his changed temperament. She couldn't deal with it now. "Well, Mr. T, I'm pretty tired. I think I might head off t' bed, if it's all the same to you."

"Oh." A slight look of disappointment crossed his features, and he turned around, walking away from her. She gazed at his strong back, hidden underneath the worn brown vest.

"I could stay up, though. If you wanted me to," she called after him. He stopped for a minute and then shook his head and kept walking, letting the door close behind him. She heard his footsteps up the old stairs to the loft, and mentally berated herself for losing her chance. It was as if that night on the ship had never happened. He probably wished it hadn't.

She dragged herself to bed after making sure Johanna was comfortable and sleeping easy. Nellie was too tired to even change out of her dress. She only had the energy to undo the laces of her walking boots and kick them off. She lay on her bed, on her back, and stared up at the ceiling.

He was pacing again. Mrs. Lovett counted the steady repetition of his footsteps until they stopped. She frowned at the absence of sound from upstairs, until she heard the jingle of the door. Mr. Todd couldn't stay away from his daughter for too long. It was silent for a long, long time. She was dozing off, half asleep, when her own door creaked open. She sat upright in bed, her heartbeat accelerating foolishly.

Heart in her mouth, she watched his hesitant approach to her bed. He hadn't forgotten, then…she _knew _he hadn't. Sweeney sat down at the edge, fingers viciously twisting the comforter.

"Mr. T?" Nell whispered, leaning forward slightly.

He surprised her. "Johanna…she's afraid of me," he said, stumbling over his words.

Mrs. Lovett put a calming hand on his shoulder but couldn't help stifling a yawn. He wanted reassurance, and she gave him what he wanted. "She's sick, love. Give her time…she'll come 'round. Lucky t' have a father like you."

He didn't say anything. She yawned again, patting the small space beside her. "Lie down, Mr. T. Those circles under your eyes won't hardly disappear if you keep torturin' yourself like this. Come 'ere," she made her voice as persuasive as possible, and she still felt silly. She felt sure that she saw the beginnings of a smile and his shoulders slumped.

"I've got to check on her."

Mrs. Lovett grimaced. "You just did. She'll be fine."

"No, no," he protested, like a stubborn boy, and got up. Nellie raised herself up on one elbow and watched his hasty retreat with a long-suffering sigh. He would come around. Again. She was sure of it.

As she fell asleep, the strains of a soft lullaby floated through her head. It came from the next room, where the demon barber of Fleet Street sat cradling his golden-haired daughter as if he'd never let her go.


End file.
